Little smidgens of silliness
by Flowing Tears
Summary: Kefka enjoys playing games. Unfortunately there are only a few people worth playing with.


Title: Little smidgens of silliness

Summary: Kefka enjoys playing games. Unfortunately there are only a few people worth playing with.

Genre: Humour/Angst

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy characters, Espers, environments etc, etc. Any OC, Esper or location not recognisable is mine.

Rating and Warning: T for swearing and other bad words. Minor alcohol abuse. Hints of mildly dark and nasty stuff and violence.

A/N: I wrote a big part of this chapter while listening to Dancing Mad. Can you believe it? God I love that song.

…- Little smidgens of silliness -…

Kefka enjoys playing games.

Not of the cute, innocent kind of course but the horrible, foul kind that could make grown men cringe and cry like children. He could be compared to the cub of a lioness who brought her child a deer or rabbit, still alive for her offspring to practise killing on. Kefka would make a game out of it, releasing it before giving chase, grabbing it and taking it down.

And then he would release it once more, give it a false sense of hope, a false moment of won freedom before spreading his claws and attacking, tackling his prey and toying it more and more until it either bleeds out or he gets bored with it.

They would still die though.

Yes, physical games like hide and seek were brought to a new level by the man of many colours. Usually his games were a bit messier, a bit scarier and a whole lot bloodier. No one would want to stand in the shoes of those who Kefka would pick out to play with. To chase, to hunt, to claw their eyes out with his own two hands or burn their skin until it melts or watch them choke on their vomit caused by his poisons.

Mind games, he enjoys too.

Sometimes Kefka would just sit and wait, just move to a random place or location and stare at someone in particular or just _be there_. He would watch as his very presence would cause full paranoia amongst the people, his presence was overwhelming and terrifying.

Kefka has done enough horrible things to earn himself this right.

He would just sit next to someone and wait until they would cringe and leave, unable to take him just being there. He doesn't take well on being ignored, but enjoys it all the more when someone forces themselves to ignore him, hoping that he would get tired eventually and leave them be. Hoping he would just leave.

That he would just…

…just be somewhere else, doing absolutely nothing.

Kefka likes that game. In the palace halls he is not allowed to play and dance and scream to his heart's content. He isn't allowed to move and run and screech and jump there, so he has no choice but to settle for just being there. Quiet.

Just _be_ there.

Quietly, and waiting.

Of course, two can play that game. Leo has long ago perfected his skills to match Kefka's, he can read the madman like an open book. An open book, of which the cover is adorned with beautiful pictures falsely decrypting the story whilst the pages are torn, smudged with their corners bended whilst others are halfway or completely missing.

Leo is Kefka's favourite victim. Where others fear the crazy man in the exaggerating outfit Leo would not. No one tells Kefka what to do, how to act, where to be doing what at that time. No one is stupid enough to ignore Kefka when Kefka demands attention. No man, woman or child can punch Kefka in the face and live to tell the tale.

Except for Leo. Which is why Kefka likes him so much.

However, seven hours into their game and Kefka showing no indication of quitting any time soon Leo relents, pushing the papers away with a sigh. He had been reading and rereading them over and over _and_ _over_, pretending whatever it is he was reading to be far more important then paying the clown on his desk any mind. Kefka can be a very patient man when it comes to torturing Leo. The man has the attention span of a rock at some times, but when it comes to haunting his favourite little Leo he is as patient as a spider waiting for a meal.

Defeated, throws himself at the web. "Why are you still here?" Leo himself is a busy man. Which is why he often wonders why Kefka, though not mentally stable but still only one rank beneath him has absolutely nothing to do. Leo, as a general to the greatest empire in the world there are many tasks at hand. He cares very much for his men, his soldiers and therefore spends quite an amount of time on the training fields, seeing how they are managing and guiding them when needed. It's one of the things he loves doing most, the soldiers look up to him. He is, and it makes him feel a little light every time he hears it, a hero and he can't help himself but flaunt his feathers a little bit when given the chance. Then there is the politics. Leo busies himself with writing letters, petty talk with the king of Firago, negotiations with the king of Doma. Supplies need to be taken care of. Weapons, armour, food for his beloved soldiers. To say Leo is a bit of a control freak would be like saying Kefka 'likes' to overdress and that would be the understatement of the century.

Then there is his personal business.

There is this book Leo has been dying to read but has failed miserably time and again thanks to a very certain someone he could mention. Not for the lack of trying of course. It must be said, if Kefka wants attention, Kefka will get that attention.

From anyone.

Anywhere.

Anytime…

Even the Emperor's eyes turn to him when the twit demands it, be it by screeching or blaring or doing a little dance in utter silence.

The silence between them, which has been dragging on indicates Kefka was once again lost in his own little world. He kicks his feet to and fro, staring intently at the wall while his lips speak quietly.

A world he is quickly kicked out of when Leo slams his fist on the desk with a loud crash, making everything on top of it rumble at the impact. He feels some satisfaction when blue eyes turn to him, Kefka reminding him of a deer caught in headlights. "Why are you still here?" He questions one again, sitting back and watching that look of freight turn into one of great amusement.

And just as quick and fluent, the amusement turns to a scowl.

"You know…" He begins, and the feeling of foreboding settles like a headache in the other man's head. Not this. Not a rant. Not a rant. Anything but a rant. "…I believe you do not appreciate how much trouble I go through." It's a rant. Leo immediately stands from his chair, rounding his desk and walking towards one of the cupboards, pulling them open and revealing a few bottles of strong alcohol. Leo is not a drinker at all. He only drinks when Kefka is ranting.

Which is, actually, a lot lately.

"Do you have any idea…" By now Kefka is leaning with his hands on the edge of the desk, staring at the other man with a deranged look forming in his bright blue eyes. "…how hard it is to do this? How much trouble I go through to sit on this desk?" As the general moves towards the other side of the room, one bottle of strong liquor under his arm Kefka moves with him, knocking over several things as he drags himself over the wooden surface of the desk. He finally settles on the edge once more, now half draped over the desk which is greatly covered by his red and green cape.

"I mean there are things constantly prodding me…" To emphasise Kefka pulls something out from underneath him, carelessly discarding it after barely giving it any mind. Leo inwardly cringes as the little jar of ink rolls over the floor, its contents spilling out and leaving a long, black stain on the carpet as it goes. "…this wood is uncomfortable…" The jester man stretches, seeming to be indeed a little stiff in the muscles. He is usually as graceful as a cat, so he must really be affected by this. "…and not to mention I have to look at your stupid head."

The general nearly throws himself in his chair with another sigh, popping the bottle open and pouring himself a glass, first of many to come depending on how long Kefka will remain here, on his desk. _His_ desk damn it! He can indulge in the burning liquid for a little while Kefka moves once more to a more comfortable position, once again knocking what had been remaining on the desk over and or off. Feeling the liquid hit his stomach like a rock Leo smacks his lips once approvingly, already pouring himself another one. He keeps the bottle close by, seeing as his sort of friend is dead set on kicking off everything from _his_ desk.

"You are a selfish bastard for not appreciating how much time and effort I spend in draping myself over your desk." He states matter of factly, turning his back to Leo to kick a pile of papers out of the way. With an uncharacteristic shift Leo sits back a little, placing his boot against the man sitting with his back to him and giving him a rough shove off. The clown goes down with a surprised screech that pitches high enough to be of a woman. With a rather loud crash he had fallen forward and Leo suspects he landed on the floor face first. Standing up he can't help but smile like a child when his theory comes true. Kefka had indeed fallen forward. He lies in a messed heap on the floor in a position that cannot be good for anyone, cape half covering his head, having landed in an awkward angle, and the muscles in his left arm, neck and back no doubt strained severely. If Kefka were any more human he would definitely feel it in the morning. Hell, he would feel it now but as one would have it, Leo has seen a lot worse done to Kefka in the past, and he had gotten out more alive then ever.

Even if most were instigated by Kefka himself.

The madman has the grace of a cat, the speed of a viper and the elegance of a bird. When he is focused enough.

On the rare times he did not Kefka became a klutz. With the grace of a cow and the elegance of something you find under the bottom of your boot. Many a time Leo had watched as Kefka ran into walls, jumped from a too high wall or fell out of something random. He once had the great pleasure of watching Kefka trip over the same rock, _three times_, and still not finding what it had been that made him fall.

Laughing softly Leo pours himself another drink and sits down once more, watching haphazardly as Kefka's head emerges from the other side of the desk. With a confused expression and glassy eyes the man in red pulls himself up slightly, leaning an arm on the desk for support. His puzzled eyes finally come back into focus, if ever so slowly, shifting towards the man behind the desk. "…Where was I?"

"I'm a selfish bastard."

"Right." The man in the chair feels a shudder force its way up his spine when Kefka slams one hand on the desk, his claws digging into the wooden surface as he braces himself to haul himself up. A few grunts, a few muttered curses and one severely damaged desk later Kefka has once again managed to sit atop, towering over Leo.

It was actually the only time he would tower over Leo who is a bigger man. Years of fighting have given him a muscular frame, and accompanied by his height Leo has become a big and strong man. Kefka on the other hand was shorter, and although much more elegant then Leo, also a lot thinner and thus, weaker. Still, it was a bit uncertain who would be the strongest of the two. Leo might have his sword at his disposal but Kefka has his magic, his poison and fire cast and thrown within the blink of an eye. Not to mention his claws, his hands which must carve through flesh easier then through the strong wood of this desk.

The thought scares Leo a little.

"I forgot where we were…" That, on the other hand comforts Leo. He raises the filled glass to his lips once more, downing the contents and hoping the alcohol will begin to work soon. He'd rather have a hangover in the morning then hang around Kefka sober. Although Kefka is the one doing the hanging now. "Don't you have to be somewhere else?"

"How should I know?"

That is why Kefka's schedule is so empty.

Frowning Leo stares at the clock in the corner. It reads ten to nine, way too early to head for bed. Of course, if Leo wanted to he could go but he could still be plagued by his 'friend' in two ways. If it was too early Kefka would remain on the desk while Leo settled for sleep. After once waking up at midnight and staring into the ghastly face of Kefka he had decided that was no option. Of course he could kick Kefka out, but that was not alright either. Kefka would go kicking, screaming, making a scene. Scratching and throwing his arms left and right and by the end, though he will manage to kick Kefka out of his quarters Leo will still have to visit the medicinal facilities to have burn or poison wounds or claw and bite marks treated.

"You know I wonder…" He begins, placing the bottle and glass on the floor and sitting back. "…why can't you find someone else to bugger?"

Blue eyes stare down at him, glazed over with confusion once more. "Well… who else is there to rant to?" To that one, Leo raised his eyebrows in question. Who else is there? The Empire is full of people for Kefka to torment. Full of people to pester and annoy.

"Who else but you, who do I bitch and moan to? I can't go to anyone else!"

"Why not?" For probably the first time ever Kefka made Leo a little curious.

"Because they agree with me! Everyone is so scared of me they agree with every little thing I say, with every little thing no matter how horrible it is I do." With an overly dramatic pose Kefka rolls onto his back, feigning a pained expression and burying his face with one hand. His voice pitches a notch when he continues. "Every bloody little thing! They just sit back and take it!"

When the clown suddenly and violently sits back up with a grin plastered to his face Leo starts to regret asking.

"But you…" The general sinks back into his chair while the jester man leans closer with that same awful smile on his red lips. The very same smile reserved for the prey he will soon sink his claws and teeth in. "You don't fear me. Do you…" Right now Kefka is leaning forward as far as possible, still leaving a bit of distance between them. "…Leo…" He purrs, smile never faltering.

"Do you?" Just when he figured Kefka couldn't get any closer, the man of many colours comes closer, bracing himself with a hand on Leo's knee. Kefka is not a heavy man even with his tons and tons of clothing, so the other man doesn't budge. He should have.

He could run for help.

He could scream for help.

He could run for help whilst screaming. He really should have.

Their faces close together, noses almost touching. Leo fights down a shudder when he feels another hand brace itself on his other knee, feeling the other man's talons dig into the fabric of his pants. Their breaths mingle together and Leo cringes as the smell of blood on Kefka's breath. Blood and vanilla. Typical.

"Do you fear me Leo?"

For once, Leo knows Kefka will catch him lying. So instead he remains motionless, silent, watching to see what the other man is up to.

Apparently another game has started. Leo should have been paying attention, because now he's stuck in the middle of it with no way out. Nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.

That's how Kefka likes it when he plays games.

-Einde

I do hope you enjoyed this idiotic little fic. I have a few more ideas for one-shots but I don't know if I'll work on those. I'm so new at this and I do hope Kefka and Leo came out alright.


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